The rhythm in this sonnet doesn’t vary much, at least to my ears, and the lines also feel very end-stopped. I like the poem itself better than the rhythm and meter.
The voice is good and seems very genuine. “Kruggerand” was a word I had to look up, which is fine because I learned something new. Some of the religious allusions sailed over my head, but that’s not the poem’s fault.
As simple as it is, I think this line is a real gem: where winter wheat now rises to your knees.
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